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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28787919">mark me in your heart</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/crashqueen/pseuds/crashqueen'>crashqueen</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>NCT (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, Getting Together, Lee Donghyuck | Haechan-centric, M/M, Meet-Cute, Misunderstandings, Witches, yes this is a mailman au</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 08:01:43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,897</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28787919</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/crashqueen/pseuds/crashqueen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Hyung,” Donghyuck calls, sitting up. “I’m in love. I need you to mail me as many letters as you can.”<br/>“I can’t send you mail, we have the same address.” Taeyong frowns. “Wait, you’re what?”</p><p>(There's a new mailman in town. Donghyuck the witch is determined to win his heart at all costs.)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>241</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>mark me in your heart</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Mark Lee breezes into Donghyuck’s life at exactly noon on a Tuesday. Donghyuck knows the time because he’s trying to summon fire, which Taeyong insists is best done when the sun is highest in the sky. (Donghyuck thinks that’s just superstition. Taeyong says their profession thrives on superstition.) He’s crouched over the kitchen table, halfway through the finishing squiggle on his rune, when the loud caw of the doorbell makes him jerk in surprise.</p><p>“Aw, bats,” Donghyuck mutters, looking down in dismay at the errant chalk line scratched across his precious work. With a sigh, he snuffs out his candle, dusts off his hands, and goes to answer the door.</p><p>The boy greeting him on the other side is...radiant. He’s a mailman—that much is clear from his bright blue vest, the satchel slung over his shoulder, and the parcel in his hands—but he’s unusually young for the profession, no older than twenty-one. He has round wire-rimmed glasses perched on his nose and his fantastic cheekbone structure is only accentuated by the grin plastered across his face.</p><p>“Hello!” the boy says in a voice as sunny as the rest of him. “I’m Mark, the new mailman. It’s nice to meet you!”</p><p>“Mar-k?” Donghyuck repeats, returning the slight bow that Mark gives. It’s impossible to stay annoyed about his rune.</p><p>“It’s kinda weird, I know,” Mark says bashfully. “I was born in Canada, but I’ve lived in Seoul for the past ten years. Until I moved here!”</p><p>“A city slicker, huh?” Donghyuck raises an eyebrow. The village where he and Taeyong live is truly tiny, little more than a drowsy bundle of traditionally built homes nestled between rolling rice paddies. It’s the kind of place where everyone knows everyone, the kind of place that only needs one mailman. (The previous one’s retirement party was attended by the entire village last week.) “How’d you get stuck out here?”</p><p>“Oh, I’m not stuck! I actually requested to transfer here when I heard about the position opening. I needed a change of scene after my mom died, you know? Had to get away from the city, focus on my passion—which is postal service, of course.”</p><p>Donghyuck deflates a bit. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”</p><p>“Dude, it’s totally cool, don’t even worry about it!” Mark says, beaming, which is definitely one of the weirder responses Donghyuck’s gotten to his condolences. “I’m, like, crushing therapy right now. By the way, are you Lee Donghyuck?”</p><p>“The one and only.”</p><p>“Then this parcel is for you! I thought I should hand it off directly instead of just leaving it on your porch given, well, the state it’s in.”</p><p>It only takes a glance to see what Mark means. The brown wrapping paper is speckled with what seem to be little fang punctures and soaked in a combination of seawater and neon green goo. To top it off, the entire parcel is <em> twitching</em>. Honestly, Donghyuck should have noticed sooner. (He might have been distracted by a certain someone’s face.)</p><p>“Ah,” he says, realization dawning as he grabs the parcel from Mark’s hands, “sea monster parts. These must be super fresh—they tend to keep kicking for a while after being severed. Sorry about that.”</p><p>“No worries! Actually, if you don’t mind me asking—” Mark leans in, his stupidly dazzling eyes wide and owlish. “Are you, by any chance, a witch?”</p><p>Donghyuck snorts. “Gee, what gave it away?” he asks wryly. He gestures vaguely at everything: the parcel, the cauldron on the porch, the ring of wolves’ teeth in the garden.</p><p>“Oops, I didn’t want to assume. That’s awesome, though! My mom was a witch, but I didn’t inherit any of her ability. In fact,” Mark laughs, “she used to say it was amazing how little magical energy I give off. Apparently I have the same aura as a stone!”</p><p>“Well, you have plenty of other energy to make up for it,” Donghyuck points out. Something awfully like fondness bubbles feather-light in his chest.</p><p>“Aw, thanks dude. That’s so sweet. Your plants are beautiful, by the way—not that I was, like, peeping into your house or anything! I just couldn’t help but see over your shoulder and wow, you have so many.”</p><p>“My brother and I use plant-based magic,” Donghyuck explains. “Do you want to come in and take a closer look?”</p><p>Mark’s eyes practically bug out of his head. “For real? I would love to!”</p><p>Which is how Donghyuck ends up leading Mark on an impromptu house tour. He and Taeyong live in a square hanok, the central courtyard devoted to their herb garden and a small pond they mainly use for scrying. Inside, vines crawl over the walls and every spare centimeter is devoted to spellbooks, jars of witching ingredients, and of course, plants. Mark looks around in awe, smelling the flowers and asking the name of each variety. And sneezing a <em> lot</em>. Sometimes so hard that his glasses fly off his face.</p><p>“Um, are you okay?” Donghyuck asks after what feels like the twenty-seventh sneeze.</p><p>“Hay fever,” Mark sniffles apologetically. “My mom couldn’t believe it. She was plant-based, like you guys, so she said there was no way her own son could be allergic. She even—<em>ah-choo</em>!—tested to see if I was a changeling. But I’m not! I guess life just works in mysterious ways, am I right?”</p><p>“Should you even be in here if you’re allergic?”</p><p>“What? Yeah, dude—<em>ah-choo</em>!—it’s cool, I’m used to it. Hey, what’s this?”</p><p>They’ve arrived at the kitchen. Donghyuck winces when he sees that Mark is pointing at his earlier attempt at fire summoning. “It’s a rune for fire,” he says, “but as you can see, I messed up. Something, uh, startled me.” He doesn’t have the heart to admit that Mark was that <em> something</em>. “Actually...” He sits and wipes the table clean with a flick of his wrist before picking up the discarded chalk, oddly eager to impress. “Let me try again.”</p><p>“No way, I get to watch you in action? Awesome!”</p><p>Donghyuck sets to work, tongue poked out in concentration. The sun isn’t at its highest point anymore, but Mark’s here, which he’s sure is the next best thing. For five minutes or so, Mark watches with rapt attention (minus the brief interludes for sneezing) as Donghyuck painstakingly copies each detail of the rune, then recites the incantation. When the last syllable is uttered, the entire rune glows with searing hot magic...<br/>
...then produces a single green seedling.</p><p>“Mother of Satan,” Donghyuck groans, burying his face in his hands.</p><p>“Woah!” Mark exclaims. “That’s so cool! It’s sprouting straight from the table!”</p><p>“But it’s supposed to be a <em> fire</em>,” Donghyuck laments. “That was the third time I’ve tried it. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.”</p><p>“Don’t beat yourself up, dude,” Mark says, patting Donghyuck’s shoulder. He looks almost comically sympathetic for such a minor issue, his brows furrowed and lower lip pouting, but he’s clearly sincere. “I’m sure you’ll get it eventually, but sometimes you gotta get through all the failures first—<em>ah-choo</em>!—to get to the success, you know?”</p><p>Donghyuck smiles despite himself. “Thanks, Mark.”</p><p>“Any time, Donghyuck. I should head back to my route now, but thank you for showing me everything! I’ll see you around! Fighting!”</p><p>“Fighting,” Donghyuck repeats, trying not to let his heartstrings tug too badly at the sight of the front door sliding shut behind Mark.</p><p>☾</p><p>Taeyong comes home later that afternoon to find his brother sprawled across the couch, gazing up at the ceiling with a dreamy expression on his face.</p><p>“Hyung,” Donghyuck calls, sitting up. “I’m in love. I need you to mail me as many letters as you can.”</p><p>“I can’t send you mail, we have the same address.” Taeyong frowns. “Wait, you’re <em> what</em>?!”</p><p>☾</p><p>As it turns out, Taeyong is right, which means that Donghyuck has to enlist the help of his friends to execute Operation SPAMH (Secure the Package AKA Mark’s Heart). Renjun mails him a piece of binder paper that reads, <em> You’re stupid and this operation is stupid</em>. Chenle and Jisung don’t bother doing even that; they simply stuff whatever old homework they have lying around their rooms into envelopes. Jeno sends photos of his cats. Jaemin, never one to pass up on a chance to be cute and extra, sends love poems in perfumed pink envelopes adorned with pressed flowers and custom wax seals.</p><p>Every delivery is an opportunity.</p><p>On day one, Mark happens to arrive just as Donghyuck has accidentally-on-purpose brewed too much tea for a single person. (“Hell yeah I’ll have some, I love tea!” Mark beams.) On day two, Donghyuck—well aware that his legs are his greatest asset, thank you very much—decides to do pilates in the front yard while wearing booty shorts and a crop top. (He preens all afternoon about how red Mark’s face gets.) On day three, Donghyuck asks for Mark’s help pruning their camellia tree, mainly to confirm his suspicion that Mark does, in fact, have some serious muscles hidden under the white button-down he always wears. (Donghyuck is right. He’s always right.) On day four, he presents Mark with a bouquet of sunflowers he’s charmed to be hypoallergenic, and Mark’s responding smile is the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. (Donghyuck abandoned his fire studies in favor of developing the charm, much to Taeyong’s displeasure.)</p><p>Day five is Sunday, which is Mark’s day off. Taeyong bakes a cake to drop off at his house as a housewarming present.</p><p>“Wanna come with me to see the love of your life?” Taeyong asks, hovering by the front door with the cake in hand. He’s cringing but supportive, because Taeyong is always supportive.</p><p>“Hyung, we’ve been over this,” Donghyuck whines from where he’s lounging in an ivy-woven hammock, absorbed in his Nintendo Switch. “Going to his house is way too direct. My methods of courtship are far subtler than that.”</p><p>“Right. Because you’re being <em> very </em> subtle right now.”</p><p>“Exactly, Taeyongie hyung, you get me. Wait—” Donghyuck pauses his game and glances up just as his brother is about to leave. “Can you mention me, though? Just say that I helped make the cake or something.”</p><p>“But you didn’t.”</p><p>“Details, details,” Donghyuck says airily. He sets down his console and swings off the hammock, conjuring a strawberry in his palm that he presses on top of the cake. “There. Now I helped. Yah, hyung, why are you looking at me like that? You’ll mention me, right? Hyung? Hyung!”</p><p>☾</p><p>One week of Operation SPAMH quickly stretches into three, then four, as Donghyuck does everything in his power to prolong Mark’s near-daily visits to his home. At some point, the pretenses melt away entirely; Mark lingers for a conversation and a cup of tea by default. Donghyuck gets bolder and bolder in his advances, but Mark is seemingly impenetrable.</p><p>“He won’t stop calling me <em> dude </em> and <em> bro </em> in every other sentence,” Donghyuck laments to Jaemin. The two of them are trekking through the paddies in their rain boots, hunting for insects to use as witching ingredients. “I swear, I could propose and he’d probably be like, <em> No way, dude! That’s dope!</em>”</p><p>“So many of my pretty, pretty pink envelopes used up just for you to languish in the dudezone,” Jaemin sighs. He snatches a diving beetle and drops it into his bug cage. “Maybe he’s not into guys?”</p><p>“I thought of that too, but last week he told me about his ex-boyfriend from Seoul. Apparently they’re still on super good terms. He even showed me pictures,” Haechan grunts a bit, wrangling a dragonfly into his net, “and his ex is seriously model-level gorgeous. His name is Lucas, he speaks a bunch of languages and he’s lived in all these big cities in different countries; meanwhile I’m just some country bumpkin witch—”</p><p>“Donghyuck, sweetie,” Jaemin interrupts. He opens his arms wide. “You’re spiraling. Come here.”</p><p>Morose, Donghyuck throws himself into the hug, burying his face in Jaemin’s shoulder. “Mark is older but he said I could skip calling him <em> hyung </em> because it’s more comfortable that way,” he says, his voice muffled by the fabric of Jaemin’s coat. “Everything is more comfortable with him. I understand that, like—it would be scummy, you know? To keep pursuing him this long if he’s sending signals that he’s not interested. But it doesn’t feel like that. Even if his feelings aren’t romantic like mine, he always seems so genuinely happy to see me. So I just keep—agh,” Donghyuck groans. “Emotions are so humiliating.”</p><p>“Oh, Duckie,” Jaemin coos, running his fingers soothingly through Donghyuck’s hair. “I think you should take one last go at it, and if it doesn’t work out, come find me and we’ll eat ice cream and watch those cheesy romance movies you like, okay? Of course you can still be friends with Mark, but you need to make your peace with your feelings that go beyond friendship first.”</p><p>“One last go,” Donghyuck echoes softly.</p><p>The wheels in his head begin to turn.</p><p>☾</p><p>The next day, Donghyuck accepts his mail (it’s from Chenle today, which means he definitely just got chewing gum wrappers in an envelope) and invites Mark inside for their usual tea. It’s a warm spring day and they drink it cross-legged by the pond in the courtyard.</p><p>There’s something strangely poignant about these tea sessions, Donghyuck thinks—how they draw out their sips, sometimes even refilling their cups to let the tea bags steep a second time, trying to stretch the length of a single cup. Or maybe it’s just his imagination.</p><p>He’s Mark’s last stop for the day. The sun is dipping beneath the hills, rendering everything hazy and rose gold, when he turns and asks, “Hey, Mark?”</p><p>“Hm?”</p><p>“What made you want to be a mailman?”</p><p>“Oh!” Mark perks up a bit, smiling. “Well, when my parents and I first came to Korea, I was lonely and I missed everyone back in Canada. But my grandparents sent me these really thoughtful handwritten letters every month, so I always looked forward to getting the mail. The mailman was like a superhero to me. And I guess that association stuck, because when it came time to decide what I wanted to do after high school, the answer was obvious.”</p><p>“That’s…” Donghyuck buries his face in his hands and takes a few deep, grounding breaths. “That’s so cute, what the hex.”</p><p>Mark laughs. “Thanks, dude. I love my job!”</p><p>“And your parents were supportive?”</p><p>“Yeah, a hundred percent. I know what you’re thinking; a lot of people expected my mom to be disappointed that I didn’t share her magic—I couldn’t even be, like, a botanist or florist because of my allergy! But she didn’t mind at all. She just wanted me to be happy, so that’s what I’m doing.”</p><p>“I’m so happy that you got to grow up like that, Mark,” Donghyuck says, half-surprised to find that he truly means it. Then, not knowing why he says it: “Taeyong hyung and I are orphans.”</p><p>“Aw, dude…” There go Mark’s puppy eyes again. <em> Bats, he’s adorable</em>.</p><p>“Our parents were true nature witches,” Donghyuck explains, “living in the wild, dancing with the forest spirits, all of that. They died unexpectedly when I was five and Taeyong hyung was ten, so we just wandered and lived off the land for a while. Eventually, we came across this place and the villagers collectively adopted us. They all took turns housing us for a few months at a time until Taeyong hyung built us this house a couple years ago.” Donghyuck gazes at the sunset, letting the memories wash over him. The wistful smile slips off his face as soon as he looks over at Mark. “Mark, are you—are you crying?” he asks incredulously.</p><p>“It’s just so beautiful!” Mark wails. He pulls off his glasses to dab furiously at his eyes with his sleeve. “How you and Taeyong stuck together, how the whole village opened their hearts to you and raised you both…Ah, Donghyuck,” he sighs. “I’m really happy for you too, you know? I can see that you’ve built yourself a family here.”</p><p><em> Marry me</em>, Donghyuck’s brain says. His mouth says, “Mark, you’re done with work, right? Why don’t you stay for dinner and a movie?”</p><p>“Hell yeah, bro, I would love to!”</p><p>☾</p><p>Donghyuck clears the kitchen and living room of plants for Mark’s sake. (Taeyong also clears himself out, but not before winking a few times and giggling that he’s going to “give the youngsters some alone time.”) The two of them eat kimchi jjigae and curl up on the couch to watch <em> The Notebook</em>.</p><p>Donghyuck’s glad he picked a movie he’s already seen countless times, because he’s currently utterly incapable of focusing on the screen for more than ten seconds at a time. Instead, he finds himself occupied with:</p>
<ol>
<li>Mark’s handsome side profile illuminated by the glow of the TV in the dark room, his glasses casting shadows across his cheekbones,</li>
<li>how he’s the most laid-back Donghyuck’s ever seen him, vest discarded and top few buttons undone, and</li>
<li>every single point of contact between their bodies.</li>
</ol><p>They <em> are </em> sitting awfully close. Maybe it wouldn’t be so out of place if Donghyuck just reached out and…</p><p><em> RED ALERT</em>, his brain screams. <em> WE’RE HOLDING HANDS WITH MARK LEE</em>.</p><p>Both Mark and Donghyuck are definitely blushing, but neither of them say anything and neither of them untwine their hands until the movie ends. As the credits roll, they turn to one another and suddenly their faces are just inches apart. <em> This is it</em>, Donghyuck thinks. He closes his eyes and leans in…</p><p>“Wow, what a great film, gotta love Rachel McAdams!” Mark squeaks, leaping to his feet and turning on the lights. “Um, thanks for the tea and dinner and the movie, but I should probably head out now! Good night, Donghyuck!”</p><p>His hand is on the doorknob when a flabbergasted Donghyuck musters enough of his wits to shout, “Wait!”</p><p>As if that single word from Donghyuck were imbued with hypnosis, Mark screeches to an immediate halt. He looks distinctly like a deer caught in the headlights when he turns back around.</p><p>Donghyuck stomps across the room to Mark. “Am I just not cute or something?” he demands.</p><p>“I beg your pardon?”</p><p>“Seriously. That can’t be it, because I’m adorable. Plus, I saw you ogling me when I wore the booty shorts that one time, don’t lie. I’m funny and smart and talented, I’ve been dropping all these obvious hints for a month now—”</p><p>“Hints?” Mark’s eyebrows scrunch together. “Hints of what?”</p><p>“Yah, Mark Lee,” Donghyuck warns, eyes narrowing. “Don’t make fun of me. You’re better than that.”</p><p>“I’m not making fun of you!” Mark protests. “I genuinely don’t understand, but I really want to, Donghyuck. What hints?”</p><p>“Hints that I <em> like </em> you, snakes-for-brains!”</p><p>Mark’s jaw drops. For an excruciating moment, silence hangs between them, until Donghyuck can’t stand it anymore.</p><p>“For Satan’s sake, Mark, I waited for you every day, I brewed you tea, I gave you flowers, I played a romance movie and held your hand! What did you think it all meant?”</p><p>“I think...I need to sit down.” Mark stumbles back to the couch and plops himself down, apparently shell-shocked. He grabs a throw pillow and hugs it to his chest. “I mean, I may have suspected it sometimes,” he says, eyes fixed on the floor, “but it felt so audacious to even imagine that <em> you </em> could actually like <em> me </em> over all of your suitors! I thought you were just being, like, super neighborly all this time and I was imagining all of the—”</p><p>“Wait, pause. Rewind,” Donghyuck interjects, blinking rapidly. “All of my what now? <em> Suitors</em>?”</p><p>“Now look who’s making fun,” Mark mumbles glumly. “You know who I mean. Those guys who send you all those letters all the time.”</p><p>The wheels in Donghyuck’s head explode.</p><p>“I gotta admit, I have mad respect for their dedication to romance,” Mark continues. “Physical love letters in the digital age, sent by snail mail even though you all live so close! Especially Jaemin’s, with the perfume and flowers; I could never compete with that. To be honest, I saw the two of you hugging in the rice paddy yesterday, and it looked so intimate and tender...I wasn’t really sure what to make of it today when you asked me to stay—”</p><p>“Mark, look at me,” Donghyuck wheezes, finally back in command of his faculties. He sits beside Mark and takes both his hands. The pillow Mark was holding falls softly to the floor. “Please listen. All those guys, they’re just my friends. They’re not wooing me—and if they were, I would reject them immediately, because ew. They only sent me all those letters because…” <em> Deep breath, Donghyuck</em>. “I asked them to. I wanted to make sure you came to my house every day, because I’ve liked you since the first time you did.”</p><p>Mark blinks once, twice. His mouth opens and closes a few times before he’s able to speak. “Donghyuck, that’s so…”</p><p>“Sad and creepy, I know.”</p><p>“<em>Cute</em>!” Mark exclaims, and that huge smile of his breaks over his face for the first time since their almost-kiss. It’s as if the sun emerges from between the clouds. With that one smile, the world is right again. “But you should have just asked me, dude,” he adds. “I would have come to your house every day, letters or no, if you only asked.”</p><p>“You always call me <em> dude</em>,” Donghyuck points out softly. “Or <em> bro</em>.”</p><p>“Oh, sorry, do you not like it?”</p><p>“No,” Donghyuck sighs. He cups a hand on either side of Mark’s face. “I love it. Mark Lee, I want to kiss you.”</p><p>“Lee Donghyuck, I want to kiss you, too.”</p><p>So they do exactly that. Kissing Mark tastes like the first gulp of a flight potion, Donghyuck thinks dizzily—the flutter in his throat, that moment of jubilant weightlessness as his feet lift off the ground. He’s greedy, insatiable, hands grabbing at every little piece of Mark he can find. Their bodies are flush and it’s not enough; he wants to be <em> closer</em>. They could kiss every minute of every day for the rest of their lives and it wouldn’t be enough.</p><p>Then again, Donghyuck would miss Mark’s stupid face if they did nothing but kiss. When they finally pull apart, he takes a moment to appreciate it—tousled hair, red cheeks, swollen lips. Radiant.</p><p>“Hey,” Mark murmurs huskily, readjusting his glasses. His tongue darts out to swipe over his lower lip and Donghyuck wants to frame the image in his heart. “You should try summoning fire again.”</p><p>“What? Why?”</p><p>“Don’t you just feel like it would work?”</p><p>Honestly, Donghyuck gets what Mark is saying. The fire roaring in his veins right now doesn’t seem like it’ll be too hard to bring to the surface. Grinning, he bounds to the kitchen, where he grabs a piece of chalk and sets to work on his rune (one-handed, of course; he needs the other hand to hold Mark’s).</p><p>In the end, they nearly burn the kitchen down. Donghyuck doesn’t hear the end of it from Taeyong for weeks—not that he minds. Operation SPAMH is a resounding success, and having his new boyfriend’s hand to hold is worth the world.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>*dusts off this account* hi everyone!! i'm currently stuck in the middle of a much more tonally serious canonverse markhyuck fic and ended up writing this on a whim as a sort of palate cleanser. i enjoyed it a lot and i hope you did too (: as always, comments kudos and subs deeply appreciated !!</p><p>my cc, leave ur thoughts or requests if u want 💚 i want to be more active on here https://curiouscat.qa/serendeity</p></blockquote></div></div>
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